


What a Beautiful World, What a Terrible World

by Nokura



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Deathfic, Disease, Ed is dying, M/M, This is not a happy ending!, Trisha's Disease is Hereditary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-10-16 10:41:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10569642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nokura/pseuds/Nokura
Summary: “I’m sick, Roy.” Edward said, a sort of finality to the statement. Roy pauses, turns towards him.“Sick as in… a cold? Or - ”“Dying.” Edward cuts him off. “I'm dying, Roy.” Their eyes meet, and Ed can tell that Roy already knew, and it makes it all so much harder, so much more unbearably painful.Roy feels suddenly faint, and quickly sits down in his chair, bracing his palms against the smooth wood of his desk.“Oh.” He says, numbly. Still processing Fullmetal’s words.Ed also sits, sinking into one of Roy’s couches, calm and contained instead of his usual aggressive sprawl.“Yeah,” he replies, softly, a small smile on his face. “Oh.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> So I am completely obsessed with the idea of Edward having inherited his mom's disease, and it taking hold after he's gotten everything back, and him having no way to fight it and dying a horrible, tragic, heartbreaking death. Which is basically what this fic is, with a lot of angst RoyEd thrown in to help make it as depressing as possible. 
> 
> The title is the name of a song by The Decemberists. The actual contents of the song don't quite fit the fic (although it is a beautiful song, do listen to it), but just the title seemed pretty fitting. 
> 
> Also, unbeta'd so...

“I’m sick, Roy.” Edward said, a sort of finality to the statement. Roy pauses, turns towards him. 

“Sick as in… a cold? Or - ”

“Dying.” Edward cuts him off. “I'm dying, Roy.” Their eyes meet, and Ed can tell that Roy already knew, and it makes it all so much harder, so much more unbearably painful. 

Roy feels suddenly faint, and quickly sits down in his chair, bracing his palms against the smooth wood of his desk. 

“Oh.” He says, numbly. Still processing Ed’s words. 

Ed also sits, sinking into one of Roy’s couches, calm and contained instead of his usual aggressive sprawl. 

“Yeah,” he replies, softly, a small smile on his face. “Oh.”

 

* * *

 

 

It starts with a cough. Nothing unusual - it’s rain season, and his automail has been acting up because of it. It makes sense for his immune system to be less than up to par, and so at first, he pays the cough no mind. 

But then it doesn’t go away. In fact it only gets worse. 

He starts tiring easier, not that he’ll let anyone know. He pushes through it, finishing fights and missions with his usual bravado, and then curling up in the bathroom where no one, even Al, can find him.  Curling over as fire burned in his lungs, as he coughs until his throat is raw, and his sides are sore from heaving. When his military contract comes up for renewal, he resigns, citing the fact that he wants to spend some time with his newly restores brother. He’s barely willing to admit to himself that he can no longer handle the strenuous nature of his job.

And then one day, it clicks. 

He’s hit by a mild coughing fit while on the train, with Al, heading back to Resembool. Nothing much - only a few light hacks, nothing he can't stand and push his way past. But Al turns to him, concern in his newly regained face, and said “Brother. Are you alright? You’ve been coughing a lot, lately.”

Ed freezes, because he recognizes those words. Years and years ago, back in Resembool, back before their lives had been torn apart, he remembers watching his mother cough into a handkerchief for what seemed like just a little bit too long, and asking “Mother, are you alright? You’ve been coughing a lot, lately.” Three months later, she had been dead. 

“I’m fine, Al.” He responds. “Just a cold.” 

Al frowns and turned away, obviously still troubled, and Ed sits rigid in his seat, trying to hide it as he begins to break down inside. It doesn’t mean he had what mom had had, just because they’d both had coughs. It doesn’t mean anything. He’ll talk with Granny Pinako - she had been the only one somewhat privy to his mom’s condition. She’ll be able to tell him. 

Mind made up, he settles down to rest, although sleep is long to come, and troubled when it does.

 

* * *

 

The silence stretches between the two men, tense and weighted. Finally, Edward speaks. 

“I’m sorry. I never meant… I never meant for…” He trails of, and settles for simply gesturing between the two of them. 

“You never meant for this to happen between us.” Roy finishes for him. Eyes downcast.

“Yeah.” Edward says, swallowing hard. “But it did, didn’t it. And Roy…” He breaks off, looks up and finds Roy staring at him, and so he makes eye contact, lets himself take in the dark gaze of the other man, lets himself let it all go, and show him everything. He takes a breath, and tries to ignore the way it catches halfway down his throat.

“Roy, I’m in love with you.”

 

* * *

 

As soon as they get to Resembool, as soon as the initial greetings are out of the way, he pulls Pinako aside. 

“Granny,” he begins, no preamble, and no pretense. “When mom got sick, how did it start?”

Granny pauses, and looks at him calculating. “Why do you ask?”

He looks her square in the eye, and screws up his courage. 

“I’m sick.” He said. “I’ve been sick for a while, and it’s getting worse. I need to know if it’s the same thing that killed mom, because if it is, I need to make the most of the time I have left.”

Granny gasps, softly, her face turning sympathetic. “Oh Ed…” she begins, but Ed stops her, holding up a hand.

“Please, Granny, just tell me. I don’t want sympathy, I’m not sure I can deal with it.”

Her face hardens into resolution, and she nods in understanding. 

“A cough. It started out small enough, but it never got better. Eventually, it got so bad she was coughing up blood.”

Ed grimaces - he hadn’t quite reached that stage yet, but it was becoming increasingly likely that he did have the same disease as his mother. That he would die. Softly, he speaks again.

“And what happened next?” 

“Aches in the joints, fatigue and weight loss due to the stress put on her body. Constant pain in the lungs, and shortness of breath. Muscle spasms, and eventually seizures. And then she got the fever…”

“...And she died in a matter of days.” Ed finishes. There is a pause, both of them lost in their own somber thoughts, and then Ed smiles, and lifts his head. 

“Thanks, Granny.” 

Pinako’s eyes, when they meet Ed’s, are filled with grief, and understanding, and grudging acceptance.

“Just… keep in touch, Ed. For real. I want to know where you are, and how you are. No more disappearing of God knows where for months on end.’

“Alright Granny.” Ed seems to hesitate, and then pulls her in for a hug, squeezing her tightly. “Thank you.” He murmurs, and then lets her go. They share one last look, a moment of understanding passing between them, and then head out to rejoin Al and Winry. 

 

* * *

 

Roy doesn’t move. He doesn’t respond. He doesn’t react in anyway, simply stares blankly at Ed, his face a numb sort of mask. And then, abruptly, a single tear slips from his eye, and he seems to crumple, caving in on himself until he sits hunched and hidden, his body shaking as he sobs. 

Ed swears, and springs to his feet, ignoring the pain that shoots through his protesting knees. He rushes to Roy’s side, wrapping the older man up in his arms. 

“D-damn you, Ed,” Roy gasps, when he’s managed to get himself under some semblance of control. “Dammit, I love you too. Of course I do. How could I not?” He pauses as a shudder passes through him, then meets Ed’s eyes, and says, softly, brokenly, and with something approaching affection. “Damn you for doing this to me.”

Ed feels his own eyes water, although it could be equally attributable to the pain in Roy’s eyes and the burning in Ed’s lungs.

“I know.” He says softly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

 

* * *

 

Ed leaves Resembool a week later. Sure enough, his joints have begun to ache - in fact his whole body feels brittle, like it could fall apart any second - and he coughed up his first blood the day after talking to Pinako. His lungs haven’t started to burn all the time, not yet, but the coughs are coming more and more frequently. He bids Al and Winry good bye - they don’t know, he hasn’t told them yet - and promises Pinako he’ll write. Al was reluctant to let him go, but he also wanted to stay with Winry. Ed smiles as he thinks of the obvious love the two have for each other, and he’s glad that they’ll have each other to lean on when he’s gone. 

He leaves, though, even though he wants to stay with them, because he has someone else he needs to see. 

And so he heads to Central, and to Brigadier General Roy Mustang, because he has wanted Roy since he was 15 and first knew what hormones were, and now he’s 18, almost 19, and he’ll die before he hits 20, and he will be damned if he does not have Roy before he does.

He’s having a bad day, and he spends most of the train ride curled over the toilet, trying not to hack out his organs, or pass out from the weakness and nausea. When the train arrives, he pushes himself shakily to his feet, and wipes the worst of the sweat from his face. When he’s satisfied that he looks as presentable as he’s going to get, he exits the bathroom, trying to at least look like he is human, even if inside he already feels like death. 

It’s the weekend, so Roy will be at home. He debates getting a hotel first, getting some sleep, but he needs to do this. If nothing else, he needs the release of a good night of fucking. So he heads straight to Roy’s house.

Once there, he stands on the doorstep for what feels an eternity, screwing up the courage to knock.  _ You’re dying, _ he reminds himself.  _ What do you have to lose? _

What does he have to lose? He knock, and then waits, and when Roy opens the door he almost turns and flees because he hadn’t anticipated how hard seeing the other man would hit him. All of a sudden, he becomes acutely conscious of why he’s there, what he’s there for, and why he’s there for it, and he feels like he’s drowning, and like there’s blood slowly flooding his throat. Which there might be, at least a little.

Roy is obviously surprised at finding Edward on his doorstep, but that surprise quickly turns to concern as he sees the lost expression on Edward’s face. 

“Fullmetal, are you - “

Ed pounces, because he can’t take the concern, the pity, and he needs this, he reminds himself. He needs this. So he shoves Roy back through the doorway and slams the door shut behind them. Roy’s hallway is dim, and in the faint light Roy’s eyes flash with surprise and confusion, Ed simply stands, panting and staring at him, and chokes down a cough that wants to tear its way out of his throat. Slowly, he steps forward, and places a hand on Roy’s chest. 

 

* * *

 

They stay like that, Ed kneeling and holding Roy, as he slumps over at his desk. They don’t need any more words, the few they shared was enough. They love each other, after all. They know each other better than anyone. 

So they simply stay, and hold each other, and then slowly, gently, Ed turns Roy’s head, and kisses him. 

It’s soft and chaste, and just a little bit salty, and there is something so raw, so painful about it that Ed finds himself choking back a sob. Roy bites his lip, hard, drawing blood, and it goes straight to Ed’s crotch. Suddenly he is desperate, tugging Roy backwards and out of his chair, angling them for the couch. It hits the back of Ed’s knees, and he falls back, Roy bracing himself above, and Ed’s fingers clutching the fabric of Roy’s jacket. 

Roy pulls back, and his mouth is swollen and red, and so are his eyes, and there are still tear track smeared over his cheeks, and God,  _ God, _ he is beautiful. Ed lets out another sobs.

“Please.” He begs. “Please Roy, I need you.”

 

* * *

 

Kissing Roy is everything Ed ever hoped it would be, and more. His lips are rough, chapped, but so, so soft, easily molding under Ed’s own mouth, as he desperately presses himself to the other man. Roy takes a minute to react, but when he does it is with such ferocity that Ed finds it is his turn to be taken aback. But he yields easily, and lets Roy take the lead, lets himself be pushed up against the wall, Roy’s tongue down his throat  _ I hope he can’t taste the blood _ and Roy’s hand heavy on his hips. 

And then Roy pulls away, and even in this light Ed can see the dark flush painting his cheeks, and the deep want in his eyes. 

“Ed,” He says, and his voice is rough, and low, and Ed lets out a small moan, knowing what he must look like right now, flushed and panting and utterly wanton. “Are you sure about this?”

And of course Roy would ask, of course he would care, of course he would break of their gorgeous, mind blowing make out session to ask Ed  _ was he sure, _ and Ed feels a pang go through his heart, some emotion that he will not and cannot acknowledge rising up in his chest. 

He looks Roy in the eyes. “Yes,” he breathes. “Please, yes.” And Roy kisses him again, but it’s soft, and sweet, and short. Roy draws back again - and Ed fights to hold back his groan of frustration - and then takes Ed’s hand.

“Upstairs,” He says simply, turning and leading Ed through his house. Ed follows, barely registering the rest of the house, and soon enough they are in the bedroom, and Roy is easing Ed down onto the bed. The Roy from before, from the hallway, is gone, and now everything is soft, and gentle, and Ed feels like he’s drowning in Roy. Roy above him, touching his skin, the hot press of his mouth, the stretch as he slips first one, then two fingers inside of Ed. The push and pull as finally  _ finally _ he moves inside of Ed, panting into each other’s necks, skin slick with sweat, fingers scrabbling and grasping at hips, hands, shoulders, whatever they can reach. 

And if Roy notices the way that Ed’s breath catches in his throat, the occasional flashes of pain across his face when Roy moves him too roughly for his fragile body to take, Roy doesn’t mention. 

 

* * *

 

Afterward, they lie curled up on the couch, naked and wrapped around each other. Ed begins to shiver as his sweat cools, and Roy quickly scoops up Ed’s red coat from the floor, and drapes it over them. 

“Thanks,” Ed says, and is rewarded for speaking with a coughing fit, one of the bad ones, the kind that leaves him dizzy and gasping for air, with blood on his hands and in his mouth. He just hopes he doesn’t throw up, as Roy carefully holds him, Rubbing his back and pressing kisses to his bare shoulders.

When Ed finishes, he simply says “Come on, let’s get dressed,” but his eyes hold all of the hurt, all of the desperate grief and denial, and Ed wants to curl up and die right then and there for causing Roy this much pain. Except he doesn’t, not really, because he still has a little over a month left, and there’s one more thing he has to do before he goes. 

So they dress, in silence, and then they stand there, unsure of what to do next. 

 

* * *

 

Ed’s tried his best to hide his sickness from Roy, but he has a feeling that the other man knows. Or at least suspects that there is something wrong. Ande Ed feels awful, because they’ve almost been dating, this past month. They’ve been going to dinners, and making time for each other, and having terrific, terrific sex, and Ed has practically moved into Roy’s house, and even though neither of them have said anything to make it official, they both know what this really is. And Ed…

Well Ed’s in love with him, and he thinks Roy might be in love with him too, and what he’s doing to Roy is not fair. 

And so he has to tell him. That’s all it comes down to. He should probably tell Al and Winry too, but Roy first. 

So Ed sits down, and thinks long and hard about what he’ll say. How he’ll break the news to Roy. Part of him fears that Roy will leave him when he learns the truth, to save himself later pain, but the stronger part of him knows that he won’t. That he’ll stay by him until the end. And Ed wants to make the most of their time left together. He wants to spend the rest of his life with Roy, even if it’s only a month more, maybe two if he’s lucky. And that gives him an idea.

He picks a good day, as good as he has anymore these days, and he leaves the house just a little after Roy does and heads to a jewelry store. He picks out a ring, just a plain silver band, nothing fancy, Roy wouldn’t want that, and he heads to Central Command. 

With Roy’s promotions to Brigadier General came a change in offices, and he is now on the uppermost storey of the building, and as Ed’s luck would have it, the elevator is broke. By the time Ed reaches Roy’s office, he is gasping, struggling to bring air into his lungs, clutching at his chest as black spots swim over his vision. He collapses against the wall by the door to Roy’s office, and hopes that no one passes by before he can get a hold of himself. Five minutes pass, and then ten, and then Ed pushes himself back to his feet, and enters the office. 

He doesn’t kick open the doors lie he used to - that would be a pointless strain of his body, and he wants to prolong the rest of his time on earth as long as possible. He waves to the team, who are used to having him around again, and heads straight to Roy’s office, entering and closing the doors behind him. 

Roy looks up, surprise evident on his face at seeing Ed. It’s quickly overwritten by a smile, and he asks “Ed, what are you doing here.”

“I need to talk to you.” Ed says, voice low and tentative. Roys smile drops, replaced by a look of concern. He gestures to the couch, and Ed sits. 

“Of course,” he says, leaning forward. “What’s wrong?”

Ed takes a deep breath, looks up, meets Roy’s eyes. ‘I’m sick, Roy.”

 

* * *

 

It’s Ed who breaks the silence, because he still has his one last thing to do. So he takes Roy’s hands, and looks him squarely in the eyes, and speaks.

“Roy. I love you, and I’m dying, and I want to live what life i have left to the fullest. I only have a month, maybe two, left,” Here Roy chokes, something like agony flashing across his face. “And I want to spend it with you. And Al, and Winry and Pinako. I want you to come back with me to Risembool, just until I die, so I can be with all the people I love.”

Roy is crying again, and he simply nods, clenching Ed’s hands tighter. Ed squeezes them back, and then drops them, rummaging in his pocket for the box from the jeweler’s. He pulls it out, holds it hidden in his hands in front of him. 

“I just have one request.” He says, looking at Roy, taking him in, fighting back the nerves trembling in his belly.

Roy nods again. “Anything,” he whispers, voice hoarse and breaking.

And so Ed takes a breath, and drops to one knee, opening the box and displaying the ring inside.

“Roy Mustang,” He begins, and now he’s crying too, and the look of shock on Roy’s face is priceless, priceless, and Ed loves him so, so goddamn much.

“Will you marry me?”

**Author's Note:**

> And that is that. I hoped you enjoyed, and please drop a comment. I'm new to the fandom (and AO3), so any feedback is greatly appreciated.


End file.
